Maybe One Day
by WickedisWicked
Summary: Elizabeth had some very good reasons to be rid of Orin. Pure backstory fic! Slightly based on "You Never Know" and "No More Wasted Time"


Title: Maybe One Day

Summary: Elizabeth had some very good reasons to be rid of Orin. Pure backstory!

Rating: T - some mild language ahead! Though nothing worse than in the musical itself.

A/N: May be a little bit based on "You Never Know" and "No More Wasted Time". Just something that has been floating around my head for a few weeks. I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: *Sigh* I wish I was the one who owned these characters- they're just so fabulous!- but they belong to Tom Kitt and Brian Yorkey.

Chapter one

The silence that lingered through the modest house left Elizabeth's ears ringing. Once again it was three in the morning and, once again, she was home alone lying in her cold, empty bed and petting her cat, Lucy, while wondering her husband, Orin, was. This was Elizabeth's typical Saturday night; lying alone while waiting to see when and if Orin would come home and if he'd even bothered to come up with some half-assed excuse this time.

She rolled over and looked at the glowing red numbers on her alarm clock. 3:06 AM. Two minutes had passed.

The creaking of the front door of her and her husband's house caused her to get up. Maybe he won't be staggering home drunk again, she thought. Maybe he won't be reeking of some crappy flowery perfume that made her eyes sting when he came near her to apologise for being out so late. Again. And then tried to explain how he was out with some guys from work. Again. Elizabeth may have bought it once, maybe even twice, but when it had happened again she knew that something was wrong.

Elizabeth had finally gotten out into their kitchen donning her fuzzy robe over yoga pants and a slightly ratty t-shirt with the logo for the musical "Rent" she had seen with her brother years ago. That was when she first caught sight of Orin.

The usually tall man was walking slightly hunched over and very wobbly, his tan skin seemed to have paled, his tie was missing in action with the first three buttons undone and his blazer folded over one arm. In short, he looked like hell.

"Mmm…" he groaned, sound almost like a whimper. "Hi, honey," he said as he tried to greet her with a kiss. Elizabeth quickly dodged his all attempt at caring. This is what had become of her, she thought. She dodged her own husband's touch.

One look at him and she knew that it would be exactly the same as all those other nights. This will change, she thought to herself, one day.

…

Elizabeth cupped her mug of still-warm peppermint tea in her favourite purple mug, that morning's newspaper laid out in front of her. Just as she was scanning the front page looking for more facts to add to her already overflowing list, she heard the soft padding of her husband, Orin Lemay, as he walked into the kitchen donning only the robe he'd had for the last ten years. It was rather awful-looking, Elizabeth had often thought, what with the horrible plaid pattern that adorned the offending garment.

He ducked down to give his wife a kiss, just as he had many mornings before, but this time he felt Elizabeth stiffen instead of the smile that usually tugged at her lips. It was nothing new, really. It had been like this for the past couple of months; he would act romantic, she would shy away. That morning, Elizabeth had had enough.

"Good morning," Orin said. As Elizabeth looked up, she remembered, as she did almost every time she looked at him, why she had fallen in love with him. _Or maybe it had just been the pretty face_, she thought to herself. Orin was the classic tall, dark and handsome. He had skin that seemed tan year round (which was not uncommon in Phoenix), a smile that would bring shame to any Hollywood celebrity, and a still solid body, even though he too was flirting with forty.

"Morning," Elizabeth said tightly. She was not backing down and melting as would have done at most other points in her marriage.

Picking up on her tone, Orin scrunched his dark eyebrows in a look of confusion.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

A tight smile, one borne out of anger and frustration rather than happiness, replaced her expression of platitude.

"What happened?"

Elizabeth had had enough.

"Maybe if you hadn't gotten home at three in the morning reeking of cheap perfume last night I would be in a better mood," she said with an eerily calm voice. Anger and betrayal coiling like an angry snake in the pit of her stomach. As she said her spiel she stood, her own stark white robe flaring out slightly as she turned around violently to look Orin in the eyes, hand flying everywhere and tears burning at the back of her eyes. She blinked then back quickly, having not shed a tear since she was a teenager and, using one of her many ways she learned to keep them at bay, she dug the long nails of one hand into her arm. To her, crying was a weakness that she didn't care to show just then.

"Lizzy…" her husband started. He held out his arms almost as if her were about to embrace her. She took a step back, arms flying out in front of her as if to shield herself from him. His arms dropped immediately.

"It's Elizabeth," Elizabeth responded with venom in her voice. No one called her Lizzy. Ever. "Where were you last night?"

Deep down, she knew the answer. She wish she hadn't.

"Honey, I was working late at the office. I went out with some colleagues after work," he explained. "Elizabeth, sweetie, I love _you_."

It was the last and most powerful piece he had in his arsenal. Love.

"Don't lie to me," she said, unsure if she was talking about the chain of events the previous night or his talk of love. Now the latter was something that hadn't existed in their household for quite some time.

"Look, I have to get to work. Can we finish this later?" Orin enquired as he stepped around her on his way down the hall leading to "their" room. Well, it used to be theirs, but lately he had been sleeping on the couch so as not to wake his apparently not-so sleeping wife.

"Orin," the way she said his name made him stop dead in his tracks. She folded her arms, a mere form of defence designed go keep all feelings of forgiveness out of sight. With a deep breath to calm her nerves, she voiced what she had wanted to say for months. "I want a divorce."


End file.
